Chapter 3:

  Dear Diary,

  I got a job.

  It was a bit odd. I got up late. Guess I was more tired than I thought. It was so hot when I woke up, everything felt impossible, but my tummy rumbled and I grumbled and mumbled and stumbled out of the building, because what else is there to do?

  When I got outside, the sun was so high in the sky that I could barely see. I hate the sun. Wish the moon would stick around all the time, not leave us alone with its fiery friend.

  I was still tired, guess it really was worse than I thought. I didn't even really know where I was going until I got there. It was that shop on GC street, the one with the sign out the window.

  I looked up. Building is two stories, one on the bottom and the other on the top. The bottom is a story about an antique store, but the top one… it had a sign, but it didn't say, or I guess I couldn't read it. It looked like it had writing on it, but there was something wrong with it, like whenever I looked at it the words weren't the same. Guess I really was tired.

  I opened the door and inside it was all wooden and dusty, there was a stairway in front of me and some arches on either side where all the antiques were. I didn't see anybody around. I grabbed the sign, don't know why but I shouldn't of. It was wood, heavier than I thought it was.

  I thought maybe I ought to call out, maybe someone would hear me and take away the plank, but then I heard a door open and some thuds on the staircase. I looked up and saw a man, young guy, maybe around my age, with a big ol' smile on his face. He saw me and the sign and threw a thumb back up the stairs.

  "Up there is where ya looking for," He said. "My name's Andy, if you get the job, might be working with ya." Andy held out his hand. I kept mine on the sign. Couldn't do both. Eventually he put it down.

  "Ah, my bad." He threw both his hands up and slipped behind me to get to the door. "I'll be seeing you around, miss." Then he was gone.

  I looked up the stairs. Impossible. But what else was there to do? I started climbing. For a building with only two stories, the stairs really felt like a novel, but it wasn't too bad once I got to the top.

  The stairs ended at a small dusty threshold with a small dusty doorway that seemed quite fitting. It was one of those doors with glass on the top, wood all around. On the glass there were some more letters, but I couldn't read them either. Why was I so off today?

  The door was open, but started to close as I got near. I stuck my hand in to keep it open and there was a man staring at me from the other side. He was tall, skinny, and wearing a suit. It was a nice pinstripe suit with a fedora on top. I looked at his face but it was hard to see, but he was smiling. He pulled open the door and gestured to come in.

  I looked all around the room, there was a big window on one side with a chair and table in front of it and another chair in front of that. There were bookshelves and books all around, a relaxing green carpeting, ornate vases, glass lamps. It looked like an extension of the antique store from the story beneath, but this time without all the dust.

  On the table there was a nameplate, but I couldn't read that either. I tried, but it wouldn't happen. This time I was sure that something was off, because I turned my head and could read the spines on the books, but not the nameplate.

  The sign, the door, and now the nameplate, something was definitely wrong. I turned to the tall man and asked him the first question that popped into my head.

  "What is your name?"

  He didn't make a sound, he just gestured with a gloved hand towards his nameplate. I didn't even look.

  "I can't read that," I said. "And that isn't to say I can't read, I love books, and I can read all your books, but I can't read your name."

  "Not at all?" He asked.

  "Not one bit!" I spat. "I can't read your name, I can't read your door, I can't read your sign! What kind of business are you running that customer's can't read the names?"

  He seemed amused by this, he pulled his gesturing hand away and began scratching his chin.

  "Are you here for a job?" He asked, pointing to the sign with his free hand. I had forgotten about it. It was still heavy.

  "I am! Need a new one, got fired from my other one. And don't call them, cause they don't like me!" I was finally annoyed. The heat, the pain, the reading, all of it had gotten to me and I was mad. I didn't even get mad at Andy.

  "You're hired."

  I thought that maybe my ears weren't working either anymore, that made me mad too.

  "What do you mean I'm hired?" I almost yell. "Don't you need references and stuff?"

  Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.

  "You said they don't like you?" The man answered.

  "Well, why are you hiring me?" I asked. The man told me why as though it was the most normal thing in the world.

  "Because you can't read my signs," he said, and he pointed to the one that I held. I didn't know what to say about that.

  "Why don't you take a seat," he said, gesturing to the chair. "You look hungry. I got a cooler with some sandwiches for customers, but I wouldn't mind giving you a couple. If you're hungry."

  Bit embarrassing that I didn't have to answer. My stomach started growling as soon as it heard the word "sandwiches." I don't even remember walking over to the chair and I was already sitting down.

  The tall man walked over to the window behind his desk and adjusted the blinds so that it was darker in the room, reddish glow filled the space, he then reached behind it as he sat down and produced the promised sandwiches. I could barely contain myself. I pulled the "Hiring" sign up to the top of the table, still heavy, and the man put the sandwiches down on it as though it were a plate. I didn't care, I started eating.

  I thought maybe that he would start asking me questions while I ate, but he didn't. I appreciated that. It let me get enough in me that I felt human again. Even the heat from the outside felt more distant as I made my way from the first sandwich to the second and then the third. They weren't very big, but they were nice. I was happy. In the end, I was the one who asked the first question.

  "What do you mean, 'because you can't read my signs?'" I asked him. "What's special about the signs?" He shook his head.

  "It's not the signs that are special, it's you." He said.

  "I don't appreciate that," I snapped, "the last time someone called me special I had to start taking extra classes in school."

  "No you didn't." The man said as if he knew. He was right. I'd never been to school.

  "Well… what do you mean, 'special?'" I asked.

  "Means you couldn't read my signs." the man said again. This time he held up his hands like he was showing that he wasn't armed before I got mad again.

  "What did the sign say on the window outside?" The man asked.

  "What? What do you mean?" I asked. Why would he be asking me? It was his sign!

  "Humor me," he said.

  "It said 'hiring,''" I told him.

  "And that's the sign that you brought up, right?"

  "Yeah?"

  "Take another look."

  This conversation was odd. I didn't really know what he expected, but I looked down at the sign again and was met with something of a surprise. It didn't say "Hiring" anymore. Now it said "Permanently Closed." I flipped it over to make sure that it wasn't a trick, but it was true. On both sides the words had changed.

  "That's what the sign actually said." The man said, leaning back in his rolling chair. "You got special eyes. That's why I'm hiring you."

  Then, Diary, I was really confused. I had a million questions that I had to ask, but none of them actually made any sense. I started with the ones that seemed the easiest.

  "Why did the sign change?"

  "Because it's a normal sign again." The man said. "I took the whisper off of it."

  More questions.

  "Whisper?"

  "Yeah."

  I moved on.

  "So I couldn't read the signs because of a 'whisper?'"

  "You got it."

  "What's the job?" I asked.

  "Disturbing the dead."

  "Like how?"

  "Like with a shovel and a pile of dirt."

  "Grave robbing?"

  "Not exactly."

  It was at this point that I elected to stand up and leave. It wasn't so much my morals as it was my frustration with the way the man kept saying things that were more confusing and answered less questions than they raised. I got all the way to putting my hand on the doorknob before I stopped.

  "What's the pay?" I asked.

  "Great." The man said.

  I took my hand off the knob and went and sat back down.

  "So, what will I be doing?"

  "At the start, learning," he said. "After you do some of that, we'll see how we're feeling."

  "What if I don't end up being any good at it?"

  "You will, I can tell." He held out his hand to me from across the table. I looked at it for a moment before I shook it. I winced because he made me use my bad shoulder.

  "When do I start?" I asked. I looked at his face again, this time it was much more clear than before. He had a dark complexion and distant eyes that seemed to glow blue behind his glasses. He wore what looked like a surgical mask over the lower half of his face.

  "Tonight, if you're free."

  "I am. Would you mind telling me your name now?"

  He gestured towards the nameplate on his desk once more. This time when I read it I could actually understand what it said.

  "Stiff"

  And that was that. He didn't ask me for my name, but he told me that I was free to go home and get some rest until that night. If only a home were something so easily returned to. As I walked out the door I looked at the words again. This time I could read.

  "Stiff's Closure Sale."

  On the sign on the second story it said something similar. "Closure Sale."

  I didn't really know what to think of it and I still don't. I'm writing this while I'm waiting for the time to pass so I can head back into my new job and actually start figuring what this is all about. The sun is going down and I'm feeling better, my shoulder doesn't hurt anymore and it isn't hot. I'll be back later when I'm done with work.

  Goodbye Diary.